Hollow
by dementio
Summary: Harry, Ron, and Hermione have defeated Lord Voldemort. The three of them go back and look at how to Dark Lord destroy their lives and mourn. Fake ending to book seven.


Harry, Hermione, and Ron stood at the top of the crest, eyes brimming with tears, hands reaching up to brush them away. Who would have thought that the dream team would come this far. So far as to defeat the greatest wizard of the century. But it hadn't been the kind of victory they had envisioned. In fact, it had been even more terrible than anything they had ever imagined.   
  
Harry had succeeded in saving the school he loved, but he still had a horrible empty feeling inside of him because of the price he had paid. His friends, the hollow, and everything he had once loved. Except for Hogwarts. He knew Hogwarts would always be there to remind him of what had happened that fateful October night.   
  
Not even caring anymore, Harry let the tears run down his cheeks as he looked down at the hunched shadows surrounded by grass choked with weeds. He remembered when he had first come to this place and how beautiful it had once been. Now it was a graveyard, the spirits of people who had sacrificed their lives to haunt it forever, deprived of life they had deserved. A dead silence hung over the whole graveyard. A silence that pressed against the three adult's ears and made them shiver. Nothing stirred. No leaves rustled, no owls hooted, and there wasn't even the gentle breeze that had once played through the beautiful countryside.   
  
Harry tilted his face toward the moonlight and winking stars, but he couldn't even do that without being reminded of the Great Hall and all the memories it held. How he had once loved this world and its magical wonder. Everything from the smallest charm to the biggest magical event such as the Quidditch World Cup. No matter how hard he tried, Harry knew he couldn't ever forget that all that was gone now. After that night, he knew he wouldn't be able to go back.   
  
Slowly, the friends made their way down the gently sloping crest, afraid of what they would see. Harry saw the first gravestone and choked. He brushed his fingers across where the name had been engraved into the stone. Hermione and Ron stood behind him, silent tears flowing down their cheeks as they looked at what Voldemort had done.   
  
"Cho," Harry whispered, the word hanging in the air. If only he had tried harder. He could have saved her. He could have brought her back.   
  
Harry fell to his knees, overcome with grief. "I can't do it," he heard himself whisper. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on his knees, his tears beginning to soak through his jeans. He heard Hermione drop onto her knees next to him.   
  
"Harry," she said, her voice loud in the stifling quiet. Harry's ears rang. There was the crunching of leaves as Ron made his way around the graveyard, running his hands across rough stone and engraved names.   
  
"We have to do this, Harry," Hermione whispered in his ear. "There is no other way. We tried and now we have to look back and let it all go."   
  
Harry nodded and looked up at her, his eyes red. She looked exhausted with dark purple bags beneath her eyes. And yet she was still his beautiful wife. He smiled a sad smile of defeat and grasped her hand for a moment before letting it fall. He staggered to his feet, drained of energy and hope. He had to do this.   
  
The three friends made their way around the graveyard, running their fingers over familiar names and crying over others that they didn't even know. Neville Longbottom, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Dean Thomas, Lavender Brown, Pansy Parkinson, and others that they had known in their young and care-free years at Hogwarts. Some of their friends were still alive and in the same shape as they were: grief-stricken people who were tired and wanted an end to their lives.   
  
Hermione choked back a sob as she stopped in front of on of the last graves. "Viktor," she said, reaching out a hand, but not touching the stone. Her hand fell to her side and she looked forward, staring at something Harry and Ron couldn't see. Harry shook his head sadly and walked toward the last stone, which was larger than the rest. He knew what the inscription on it said before he even read it, because he had been there before. He sat down on a bed of weeds, staring at the names that were so familiar to him.   
  
"Mum. Dad," he whispered, reaching out a finger and running it over the wilting petals of a single, dried-out rose that laid before the grave. This was the last time he would see where his parents had been buried. He wiped the fresh tears that were forming in his eyes, then ran his fingers over his scar.   
  
"You're still part of me, Mum," he said aloud, his hand leaving his scar and pressing against his mother's name.   
  
He looked at it one last time, before getting to his feet and turning to his best friends, who were standing silently behind him, looked sad. He smiled grimly. "We did it. And now it's time to go home."   
  
They both nodded and Harry stepped forward, putting his arms around both their shoulders. The three life-long friends walked together out of Godric's Hollow, leaving behind the pain and sorrow, leaving their friends and enemies lying entombed under the ground, and leaving behind the only thing Harry had ever seen of his parents.   
  
Harry smiled as he looked over his shoulder at the house that stood majestically over the graveyard on the hilltop. The house that had been his home as an infant, before the DarkLord had destroyed it. A year ago, Dumbledore had rebuilt it for him, exactly as it had been, but it still did not hold the memories that had faded away all those long years ago. Harry turned around, thiking he might come back to this place. The last thing he did before they left the hollow was look back at his parents' grave and press his fingers over his scar. 


End file.
